


Sundae

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-23
Updated: 1999-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: A Chicago Flatfoot, A Mountie, and chocolate.





	Sundae

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

(Sundae)

 

 

****_Disclaimers: Alas, they belong not to me, but to *them*. I have_  
nothing anyone could possibly want, therefore suing would be pointless.  
(Not to mention expensive!) I'm just borrowing them, and may, or may  
*not* return RayK when I've finished with them <VBG>  
  
Ratings and warnings: NC-17 for RayK/Benton Fraser male/male intimacy.  
If the thought of two men having passionate, loving sex, or Benton Fraser  
and Ray Kowalski in a permanent, committed relationship does not turn  
your crank, I suggest you pass on this one. Also, remember that this  
is a work of *fiction* and although the characters are not dealing with  
the issues of safe sex herein, this in *no* way condones the practice  
of unsafe sex in Real Life! Remember please: Use it or lose it!!!  
  
Author's Note: Often stories are born of so many inspirations. At times  
we can spend days agonizing, tossing ideas around our heads, and struggling  
with concepts. Then on those other rarer occasions... whoops! Something  
comes flying out of our mouths like... "However.. A Chicago Flatfoot,  
some Hershey's squeezable chocolate syrup, and a Mountie that *loves*  
to taste things... *that* I can see..." and lo, a story is easily,  
and quite painlessly born. This story is dedicated to my Serge Listsibs,  
who everyday offer nothing but support and inspiration. This one is for  
*family*  
  
TYK to: Krista Finnie, for putting up with me, and my all day long DS  
ramblings (as usual), and to Kellie Matthews, for her encouragement and  
instigation J  
  
This story has not yet been Beta'd so any foobars contained herein are  
solely the author's own dern fault!  
  
This story takes place at some unspecified point after Mountie On The  
Bounty.  
  
  


Sundae  
by Andre **  
**  
Your love is better than ice cream  
Better then anything else that I've tried  
Your love is better then ice cream  
everyone here knows how to cry  
  
It's a long way down  
It's a long way down  
It's a long way down  
To the place where we started from  
  
* Sarah MacLachlan  
  


  
"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray? Are you ready for desert?" Startled  
back into the present by the rich, warm timbres of his lover's voice,  
Stanley Raymond Kowalski glanced up from his now empty plate, mercurial  
blue eyes fixing firmly on Constable Benton Fraser's face. The Mountie,  
he noted, had a somewhat smug smile plastered across his lovely face,  
the variety that usually sent warning bells ringing immediately in the  
blond detective's head.

"Frase, yer gonna spoil me here. First ya clean up my kitchen, then  
ya cook me dinner, and now ya got desert too?" He couldn't help  
but grin. Fraser had become so much more to him than a partner. So much  
more than a friend. Somehow, it seemed that the ruggedly handsome Canadian  
had wormed his way past his heart, and into his very soul itself, touching  
him on levels that Stella had never even come close to discovering.

"Well, Ray, as you know, Proper Preparation Preven..."

"Prevents Poor Performance, I know, I know." Ray finished the  
thought for him, quickly cutting him off with several wild gesticulations  
of his finely boned hands. He'd heard it all before. Too many times to  
even count. Typical Fraser, reverting to that ever present Mountie training  
to explain away anything under the sun. Unable to resist, Ray's tongue  
flickered out, tracing quickly over his full lower lip, before teasing  
suggestively, "Then again, Frase, I ain't heard ya complainin' about  
*my* performance."

A telltale blush crept up Fraser's face at the innuendo. "Right  
you are... I... ah... " he began to stammer, his color rising to  
a hue rather complimentary to the serge he commonly wore. After nervously  
smoothing one eyebrow down with his finger, he finally managed to choke  
out, "Ray, I find... that is to say... well, I find that you are  
most satisfactory in that regard."

A wheaten colored brow shot up into the edgy detective's hairline, as  
he slithered out of his seat, sauntering around the table behind his  
seated lover in a near predatory fashion. Gently placing an elegant hand  
on the taut, flannel-clad shoulder in front of him, he leaned in, whispering  
huskily into the silky black hair behind Fraser's ear, "'Most satisfactory  
in *that* regard'? Whazzat supposed ta mean, Ben?" His breathy words  
were rewarded by a subtle shiver creeping up the painfully shy Constable's  
spine. "'Cuz yer *more* than satisfactory, lover. Yer *hot*. Like  
a wild animal, and I *love* that." He was a complete sucker for  
making the normally erudite and verbose Mountie go all tongue tied.

Head falling forward, in order to hide the growing flush rushing to his  
cheeks, Fraser somehow managed to reply, "Ray, please!" Fraser  
found it disconcerting, at the very least, to be so unsure of his own  
feelings as to not be able to distinguish whether the blush was caused  
by embarrassment, excitement, or some indefinable mixture of the two.

"What, Ben, don'tchya like hearin' 'bout whatchya do ta me? Hell,  
I can hardly stop thinkin' 'bout ya. Yer so much more than I ever expected..."  
the Chicagoan replied softly, almost reverently. And it was true. Whatever  
he had thought he wanted, Ray Kowalski hadn't been prepared for the raw,  
unfettered sensuality of the man, even if his lover couldn't manage to  
actually talk about it. It was a more than pleasant surprise, and, well,  
they could work on the talking part. The spiky blond head dipped down,  
trailing small nips over the Mountie's still clothed shoulder, smiling  
slightly at the soft moan that rumbled through his partner's chest. Okay,  
enough teasin,' he thought to himself, then abruptly pulled away, and  
returned to his seat, asking offhandedly, "So, desert?"

At times Ray's changeable moods were beyond the calm Canadian's comprehension.  
He stole a glance over at Ray, noting the almost pouting lips, the arms  
crossed nonchalantly across his chest, and most importantly, the wicked  
gleam sparkling behind the twin blue seas of his eyes. Those eyes which  
telegraphed every thought, or would that be *action*, on the lithe blonde's  
mind. "Oh dear... I... Ray..." he simply became unable to articulate  
the waves of desire the glint hidden within those pale blue eyes evoked  
in him.

"How 'bout I get us desert, Frase?"

"As you wish, Ray." Suddenly Benton was quite grateful for  
Ray's offer, since he speculated that walking would be more then a bit  
difficult, just now.

"Okay, Okay, hang on Frase..." Ray affirmed, then fairly danced  
into the kitchen, awash in his usual wealth of nervous energy. At times  
Fraser found himself getting tired just watching the man. The telltale  
gleam in Ray's eyes had plainly increased, as he returned with a bottle  
of chocolate sauce and a large bowl of ice cream veritably drowning in  
chocolate, whipped cream, and nuts.

The Mountie was all but dumbfounded as Ray set down his sweet burden,  
then settled himself into Fraser's lap, as if it were the most natural  
thing in the world to do. It occurred to him to ask just exactly *what*  
his partner was doing. As he opened his mouth, however, it was immediately  
filled with a spoonful of ice cream dripping in chocolate sauce. Calm  
blue eyes questioned, as he managed to gulp down the unexpected mouthful.

"Ray, It really isn't necessary to feed me.. I am perfectly capable  
of..." he was silenced by another mouthful of the sweet, rich confection.

"Ya ever think mebbe I *wanna* do this? Feed ya?" the replying  
voice was husky, near breathless, Fraser noted, and for the first time  
since Ray had settled into his lap he looked at him. Really *looked*  
at him. Oh dear. He was mesmerized by the sight of delicate boned wrists,  
elegant hands, and artfully slender fingers deftly guiding the spoon.  
That hand would dip the flashing silver spoon into the ice cream, only  
to dredge it circularly around the side of the bowl, drowning it in the  
sinfully rich chocolate. That arm would move then, lifting the spoon  
to his lips, delicately, deliberately, as if its contents were some sort  
of offering. Or perhaps the mere gestures in and of themselves were the  
offering. He couldn't seem to quell the subtle trembling that began to  
course along his spine with each intimate gesture.

Ray was not at all unaware of the affects his spontaneous feeding was  
causing. The heat rising off of the Mountie was tangible. It burnt him,  
sparked waves of heat from him, caused his heart to pound in his chest.  
Fraser's eyes had darkened, small fires of passion dancing beneath their  
usually placid surface. Oh yeah, this was definitely having the intended  
affect. At last, and all together too soon, it seemed the sundae was  
gone, the knowledge tugging at the corner of the detective's mobile mouth,  
working it into a downright lascivious grin.

Somehow, Fraser managed to refocus his attention, applying his will to  
forming a question, "You didn't have any, Ray?"

"Not yet, I'm gonna in a minute." Agile fingers quickly worked  
at the buttons of Fraser's flannel shirt, slipping them free.

"Ray, what... why are you...?"

"Don't worry, okay, Frase? I'm gonna have my sundae here."

Still rather uncertain what removing his own shirt had to do with Ray  
making another sundae for himself, Fraser decided to 'go with the flow'  
as Ray would put it. Surprising even himself, he even reached up, assisting  
with those buttons, and before long, gentle hands were pushing the fabric  
back off of his shoulders. With a soft sigh, Fraser grabbed at the hem  
of his tee-shirt and drew it quickly over his head., drawing forth a  
small groan of encouragement from his lanky partner.

Sliding off of Ben's lap, Ray extended a hand, "C'mere Frase..."

Puzzled, Fraser rose to his feet, taking the proffered hand, and was  
led, curiously enough, to the couch. Ah, perhaps Ray wished to sit in  
a more comfortable spot. Before Fraser could sink to the couch, however,  
he was stopped short, gawking, as the rebellious blond suddenly worked  
open his jeans, and pushed them, and his boxers down over his hips to  
his thighs, before pulling him down onto the khaki colored couch.

"Ray?" he questioned, "Just what *are* you doing?"

"Just trust me here, Frase... please?" As if anyone could resist  
that soft plea. Very well then, he thought to himself, before joining  
Ray on the couch, painfully aware of Ray's still clothed state, and his  
own near nudity. It sent a frighteningly thrilling jolts along all of  
his nerve endings. It wasn't long before Ray was removing his boots,  
socks, and then pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. Why should  
it be so thrilling and shocking at the same time to sit here in the altogether  
like this?

A palm against his sternum brought Ben back to the present, as it pushed  
him backwards into the couch, until he was spread out upon it. Eyes closing,  
he could not begin to suppress the shivers of anticipation and curiosity  
running rampant up the course of his spine. He almost yelped when an  
unfamiliar sensation touched him. His eyes flew open, shock evident in  
their depths, as Ray swirled and traced sticky patterns of chocolate  
sauce across his chest. Oh God...

"Ray?" the sound was almost a yip.

"Shh... Frase.. wanna have my sundae here.. my *Mountie* sundae."

"Oh dear. Ray are you certain... is it usual to mix food products  
with... well... with... ah..." The Mountie was stammering for words,  
as small chocolate swirls were suddenly dribbled over and around his  
nipples. "With sex, ya mean?" Thankfully, his lover finished  
his question for him. "I dunno Frase. Just know it seemed like a  
good idea, so what say we just.. uh, we just go with it here?"

"Right you are, Ray." A pregnant pause, "Ah... what about  
the mess?"

"Don't be worryin' about any mess, Ben. Trust me, I'm gonna clean  
all o' this up." If the wicked grin plastered across Kowalski's  
face was any sort of indicator, it was obvious that Ray had the carry  
through to follow up on his intentions.

Slowly, and with such intensity that it nearly thieved the Mountie's  
mind from him, Ray's warm, wet tongue connected with a combination of  
pale, creamy flesh, and rich, dark chocolate. A sharp erotic jolt slammed  
through Fraser as that tongue traced up his sternum, following a clearly  
delineated line of syrup.

"Mmmm... good chocolate here, Frase... tastes *almost* as good as  
ya do." A soft, fleeting moan accompanied Ray's words, and again  
he drug his tongue over another line of chocolate, one that traveled  
up along the tendons of Ben's neck. Great Scott, if his partner continued  
to pursue this course, it was doubtful that he, Benton Fraser, would  
be able to exercise his near legendary Mountie control. Never in his  
life had he imagined any single act could be so consuming, erotic, arousing.

Breathing was becoming more difficult, as Ray's tongue continued to move,  
tracing, darting, licking, and teasing sensitive flesh. Odd, Fraser thought  
to himself, it would appear I had never considered the sheer volume of  
nerve endings present in the human body. Now, it seemed, he could feel  
every one of them. They tingled and flashed with electric heat accompanying  
each long, sultry stroke of Ray's tongue across his chest.

Kneeling on the floor next to his spread out lover, Ray began to work  
at his own clothing, attempting to unfasten, tug, pull, and push between  
each long, loving stroke of his tongue. He wasn't satisfied, until he  
himself was a gloriously naked as the Mountie offering stretched out  
across his couch. He could die happily this way, he mused. Each low moan  
and grunt of appreciation torn from his lover caused the short hairs  
along the nape of his neck to rise, sending small tremors of need and  
desire along the tendons of his spine.

At that singular instant when Fraser thought he could simply not bear  
another moment of this sensual torture, that warm, eager mouth closed  
over one hardened nipple, ripping a low, obscene groan of wanton pleasure  
from the Canadian's throat. His back arched upwards, towards that tantalizing  
mouth that licked, nipped and sucked each sensitive nub in turn. Lavishing  
equal volumes of attention on each.

Through a strained throat, Benton managed to force out. "God...  
Ray. This is... this is... I never thought anyone could... could make  
me feel *so* much."

Fraser was answered only by an affirmative grunt, then elegant hands  
were tracing lightly over his hip bones, sending further shivers of appreciation  
buffeting throughout his frame. Ray's mouth dropped lower, laving languidly  
across his ribs, seeking out and licking away any further traces of the  
sweet syrup. Much like himself, Ray's breathing was quickening into no  
more then a series of ragged pants and gasps, peppered with the occasional  
grunt and low, sensuous moan. Of their own volition, his hands reached  
down, winding their way into the deceptively soft spikes of the detective's  
wheaten hair, twisting and tangling the fine strands between his greedy  
fingers.

Encouraged, Kowalski's tongue rasped lower, over the expansive plane  
of well-muscled abdomen, eliciting a throaty, shuddering moan from somewhere  
deep inside of Ben's very soul. His slightly callused fingertips walked  
downward, leaving small trails of fire in their wake as they explored  
the defined muscles of his lover's thighs and calves. He was lost...  
so lost and drunk in the feeling of Fraser trapped beneath him, held  
captive only by his mouth and fingertips. It was a rush, a heady feeling  
of tender power. A power he would never, *ever* abuse.

His tongue painting slow, deliberate circles lower over the taut abdomen,  
Ray slid his eyes up, along the Mountie's form, searching for the lovely  
face emblazoned into his memory. His heart stopped short, his breathing  
suddenly ragged and strained. Nothing could have prepared him for the  
sight which overwhelmed his senses. Fraser's eyelashes formed dark, feathery  
fans, resting against the sweat damped skin of his cheeks. The chiseled  
and sculpted planes of Ben's face were awash with bliss, each of Ray's  
movements sparking ripples of emotion and pleasure, that would shift  
across the near-angelic features. One damp lock of hair had fallen forward  
onto his forehead tempting Ray to raise his fingers upwards to brush  
it back, and away.

Never before had Ray witnessed a similar expression on the face of a  
lover. Not even Stella's. And he certainly had never seen Fraser this  
way before. This relaxed. This... hell, this at *ease*, as if he were  
perfectly content to surrender himself totally into the loving hands  
of his partner. As if -- A lump rose and lodged itself into his suddenly  
constricted throat -- as if trusting him with his very soul itself. It  
was too much, and sharp prickles stung behind his eyelids, and he gulped  
harshly. As if able to read his emotions through mere touch alone, Fraser  
was suddenly sitting, drawing him into strong, warm arms, and an even  
warmer lap.

"Ray?" The tenderness of that voice pushed at the envelope  
of his emotions and a single tear glistened against his cheek, as it  
fell. The arms around him tightened, steadying him, healing him. "Ray...  
tell me? Please? What is wrong?"

Ray's head shook almost violently, trying to find words. Searching frantically  
for a way to express the multitude of thoughts and feelings raging through  
him like a tempest. "Nothin'..." a small sob, a mingled sound  
of both raw emotion and physical pleasure escaped him, "Just...  
nothin's *wrong* Ben. Everythin' is *right*, so damn right..."

Head nodding in comprehension, one of Fraser's hands raised to his lover's  
cheek, fingertips tracing and soothing over one angular cheekbone in  
a gesture of incredible gentleness. "Understood, Ray. I too, feel  
it. What you describe as 'right'." And suddenly it was he, Fraser  
who was gently, yet firmly pressing Ray back into the cushions of the  
couch. Showering soft kisses across the smooth, pale brows. Feeling them  
knit characteristically beneath the press of his lips. He delighted in  
the sensations of the small shudders rocking the wiry frame against him.

Strong, capable hands embarked upon a voluptuous exploration of the golden-tinted  
skin beneath him. Smoothing over lean, whipcord muscles. Across the taut,  
slender chest and abdomen, which fluttered underneath his questing fingertips.  
Fanning out over lean hips, who's swagger could draw his attention and  
mesmerize him completely. Molding along lean thighs, then back upwards,  
to caress lightly over the engorged cock, hot and heavy with need. A  
smile curled across the Canadian's lips at the ragged moan, and arching  
back that greeted his caress.

Eyes fluttering shut, Ray willingly surrendered himself to Ben's passion,  
reveling in the security and warmth of the love so unselfishly offered  
him. It was as if Ben's warm, gentle hands, and pure, kind heart could  
caress his soul, washing away years of pain and doubt, redefining him.  
Strengthening him. Sharp teeth nipped and worried along his jaw, as he  
threw his head back in rising abandon. Nothing in his life had ever felt  
this good. This *right*.

The licking and nipping inched downward, skimming over the tendons of  
his neck. Continuing downward again, nibbling across his sleek chest,  
then easing lower. His back arched upwards, shamelessly, brazenly. Fraser's  
mouth dragged onward, over his abdomen, a loud gasp of desire wrung from  
him. It was all he could do, not to lose it completely, then and there,  
when that hot, greedy mouth engulfed him. His hands tangled almost automatically  
into the silken black strands of Ben's hair.

Fraser's warm, wet mouth was driving the Chicagoan almost beyond the  
realm of ecstasy. Sucking him down in long, smooth strokes, then pulling  
back, tongue circling, flicking, and exploring. Ray's hips were straining  
upwards, imbued with a will of their own, rocking into that consuming  
warmth with wanton abandon. He couldn't contain a shuddering whimper  
of loss as the Mountie's sensuous lips traveled lower, sucking gently  
at his scrotum, sending searing jolts of heat along his spine.

"God, Ben... so good... so damn *good*." Kowalski's voice was  
little more then a husky, breathless litany of pleasure. The only answer  
provided was a low, possessive growl vibrating through his partner's  
throat, thrilling him. Driving him higher. Awash in blinding pleasure,  
a passionate gasp was drawn from him as one, now slick finger first probed,  
then pushed past the tight ring of muscle. Unable, and unwilling to stop  
himself, Ray lunged upwards, driving himself against that digit greedily,  
suffused with demanding need. He wanted, craved, so much more.

Slender, yet strong, fingers kneaded over Fraser's scalp, tensing and  
relaxing in a seductive rhythm. I'm gonna die of wantin' here, and I  
do *not* care, Ray couldn't help thinking to himself. Thought quickly  
flew out the window, however, when a second caressing finger joined its  
counterpart inside of him. In a slow, deliberately sensual cadence, they  
stroked, explored, stretched, and stoked the rising need flaring inside  
of his body, and soul.

Without reserve, his rocked his hips back against those fingers, demanding  
and pleading for more. It was granted. Ray's shivering and trembling  
intensified, gently tugging Fraser back up along the length of his body  
by two handfuls of thick, black hair. He felt as though he were falling,  
spiraling into a haze of naked, raw passion as firm lips claimed his  
own, Ben's tongue trusting lovingly into his mouth in motions that mirrored  
his fingers. Hands sliding down Fraser's neck to his back, Ray's shifted  
below him, wrapping his legs around Ben's waist, his desires made evident  
in that one intimate motion.

He felt the slick fingers retreat, only to be replaced by his lover's  
thick, impossibly hard cock, gently pressing forward, inward. Without  
restraint he tightened the vice of his legs, pulling Ben closer against  
him, while rocking his hips upwards, impaling himself, a loud, throaty  
cry wrested from his lips. His own cry was answered by a ringing moan  
from his partner, the sound nearly sending him tumbling over the brink  
of oblivion.

Quickly, they found a rhythm, moving in tandem, fused together, body,  
heart, and soul. Urgent now, they undulated and writhed in sinuous bliss,  
gasps, low moans, and hotly impassioned sighs mingling together in a  
cacophony of fulfillment. They hovered for long heartbeats on the cliff's  
edge of ecstasy, before Ray succumbed first, thrashing in his lover's  
tight embrace, rocked by the rushing waves of a powerful climax. It was  
a trigger. With a low strangled sob, Fraser followed, spiraling down  
into the blissful languor of orgasm, heat and light tearing up his spine.

It was several long minutes before either man recovered their breathing  
enough to speak, so they lay, locked together in a tangled embrace, content  
to feel the matching rhythms of their hearts beating against one another.

It was Ray who managed speech first, the sounds little more then a hushed  
whisper against the sweat-damp hair just behind the Mountie's ear. "Love  
ya, more then anythin', Ben." His arms tightened reflexively in  
accompaniment to his words. He could feel the lips pressed against his  
shoulder curl into a smile. "And I you, Ray." Fraser's voice  
was so thick with emotion it caused the detective's heart to constrict  
joyfully, as he scattered soft kisses onto the top of the head nestled  
against his shoulder. "I know, Ben... God I know..." And he  
did. He had never been more certain of a single thing in his life.

"However, Ray..." Oh-oh. "I think, perhaps, next time,  
I would like to try a 'Chicago Flatfoot' sundae."

And Ray *knew* then, that he was in trouble.

**  
__  
  
**

-Fin-  
  
  
  


Feedback may be addressed to Andreshan@AOL.com  



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